(TSS) The Pirate and the Pyrightie (Finished)
by RandomSeaponyStories
Summary: Many people across the globe would kill for the chance to be royalty, bathed in luxury and free of all responsibilities; except, of course, for Prince Victor Volt, who couldn't be more bored with his bland, adventure-free life. However, when a golden-haired pirate maiden breaks into his castle one night, his world may just be flipped upside down.
1. Chapter 1

Rating **: K**

The time had come. At long last, it was finally inches from his grasp. The Bateleur of Spinel in all its glory, a once majestic creature of wings and feathers now forced into the state of a statue from the ancient curse of an evil witch. It stood high and mighty, regally perched on its stone pedastal, its calm and neutral facial expression showing of how the previous creature was completely unaware of how it was about to be ambushed by a wicked sorceress, who would cause him to spend the rest of his days as a masterpiece of gentle green gemstone. When the Prince reached out his hand, the shimmering glow emitted by the originally alive treasure seemed to sting his skin with both curiousity and fear, for who knew what consequences would follow removing this artifact from its designated location. He decided he would have to find out.

It was only mere seconds after the adventurous royal had swiped the bejeweled critter that it began to emerge. A ferocious beast as high as forty feet, a horrific monstrosity unlike anything Victor had ever seen. It was a disgusting mishmash of all kinds of seemingly impossible revolting nightmares: it had the body and limbs of what could only be compared to a garguantuant praying mantis, though it also possessed a mouth that erupted with yellow, poison-dipped fangs that nearly scraped the floor, merely one humongous eyeball painted with yellows and reds, and, most unusual of all: a floating head.

But this colossus struck no fear into the heart of the Prince; to him it was merely child's play. With the precious item sitting safe and secure within his satchel, he dashed back the way he came, refusing to blink as he sprinted towards the exit, not paying a single look back towards living eyesore that was locked on his tail, practically breathing onto the young boys ankle as it huffed and barked with desperate hunger. The ending second between life or death struck. The final chance, the last oppurtunity, had arrived. He lept up into the air towards the gap, the opening in the cave that hung high in the rocky sky, and, finally-

"MASTER VOLT!"

"nnnNNNYYAAHH!"

The princeling sprung up, forced into movement by shock, nearly shaking with surprise as his heart pounded fiercely against the walls of his chest, hands busy rearranging disshelved pieces of hair while lungs were busying themselves with recollecting all the air they had lost.

The student and the teacher exchanged looks with one another, each party not the slightest bit unaware of what had happened: Victor had fallen asleep in class. Again. For the sixth time that week.

"Master Volt." the old hag repeated as she began waddling towards the solitary desk in the room, a heavily controlled and maintained orange bun bouncing on her head as she did so. She hung over the small table with a prescence of unrelenting sternless unlike the one found in her voice, which caused the son of the monarch to sink back into his chair as he gulped back with apprehension.

And yet...something surprising followed the scholar's actions. She suddenly seemed to be looking down upon the boy with...sympathy? Pity? A weirdly failed attempt at sympathy or pity? Yeah, probably the latter.

"Master Volt, please..." she plead in an exhausted tone, as though these words had been recycled so many types in her head that it was just a rehash to say them aloud. "You're going to be king of Tonant Colonial Wyndland one day. A king! I repeat, a KING young man! That's why its so important for you to pay attent-"

"But I am paying attentio-"

In a literal instant, the temporarily kind old lady practically pounced onto the desk, leaning over her pupil as she cried, "HOW **DARE** INTERRUPT ME YOUNG MAN."

Victor's rear was nearly touching the floor as he sunk deep within his chair, almost squishing himself into a little ball like an armadillo as he stared up at his intellectual lecturer in a similar manner to how a teensy baby rabbit may look up at a starving coyote. In a strangled, petrified whisper, he could only muster enough bravery to whisper: "Y...y, yes, Nana."

Pushing herself off from the undersized table, Nana framed herself back into her correct position, standing straight up, at the perfect posture for her to look down upon all those beneath her. Including Victor.

"Look, Victor." she let out with one final tired sigh. "Just...for Pete's sake, pay attention for once. This is very important."

The young Prince, still pathetically hiding beneath his own workdesk, slowly, hesitantly, brough himself back up, like a creature unsure of whether or not its raging hunter had left yet, ready to dive back into hiding if necessary. As the teacher he so despised haughtily turned her back and began making her way back to the front of the room in slow, graceful waddles, he thought over the fact that he normally would've protested against her, but today, that matter was not open for discussion. So, he slunked back into his seat, head in his hand, elbow on his desk, eyes blankly staring at the chalkboard, ears hearing but not actually listening to the world's most boring history lecture. And, while staying awake throughout the rest of that lesson may seem like a simple accomplishment, in a life where your entire existence spans between an overly cushioned bedroom and a heavily guarded class, that's a gigantic feat.

"...And don't forget, its I before E except after C, and when sounding like 'A' as in 'neighbour' and 'weigh', and-"

Victor couldn't imagine anything more satisfying than the hearty "KA-CHUNK!" of that heavy, wooden classroom door as he finally got the chance to slam it on his responsibilities, usually cutting off his teacher as he did so; if only it could be permanent, rather than just lasting until the crack of dawn upon the next day.

After spending enough time revelling in the gloriously golden silence of the teacher-free hallway, the Prince inevitably began to return to his room, nearly scraping the floor with the mile-high tower of textbooks he was forced to lug around, bumping into walls due both to them blocking his vision and their seemingly 4-ton weight. Occasionally he grunted and whined from exhaustion and frustration, sounding like a baby buffallo throwing a tantrum. And by "ocassionally" I mean often. Like, nonstop. Cause, while he'd never admit it aloud, Victor was somewhat of a weakling, even after endlessly spending afternoon after afternoon dragging his homework back to his bedroom, like a mule with no other choice or purpose.

It was a repetitive, neverending cycle. Wake up, listen to boring lectures, drag an entire library up to his room, mindlessly scroll them without actually paying attention, get punished for it with longer lectures the next day, repeat, with the only breaks in this melancholy rythm being a party filled with pretensious stuckups smooching the ground he walked on rather than treating him like a real person. There simply wasn't a single thing to do in Tonant Colonial Wyndland...or, at least, nothing that was fun. Victor could simply never understand how peasants would come up to him during the family's occasional galas, raving and ranting of how they'd literally kill to be a Prince like him. He almost laughed to himself at the idea of someone wanting to be the human equivalent of a barnyard animal, forced through a routine that others have chosen for you with absolutely no say in it whatsoever.

Once Prince Victor finally arrived to his quarters, the leaning tower of books hit the night table with a hard smack, and his body collapsed onto the bed with a harsh thud. But, as was to be expected from his life at this point, yet another chance to actually relax and come even remotely close to enjoying himself was yet again squashed by:

"MASTER VOLT!"

He didn't even have the energy for his usual, unnecessarily spastic response anymore. Slowly lifting himself from the bed, with the absolute smallest amount of purpose or caring in the world, he managed to strangle a mumble out of his exhausted state: "Whatisitnow?"

It was Kowalski. Dressed in her usual little overly-poofified yellow dress, her usual messy, almost swooping bun of yellow curls, her usual overdose of mascara and related black eye makeup, and her usual face of uncontrollable terror as though the sky was falling down.

"Th-THE WINDOW, Master Volt!" she desperately cried while struggling for breath, throwing out an arm to point at the gigantic, glamorous, disgustingly gawdy window of multicolored curtains and rainbow of stained glass that towered upon the right wall.

What's this? Something was actually HAPENNING for once in his life? And he got to see it?! This was big. This was really, really big. There wasn't a moment to lose. Victor's feet barely touched the ground as he raced; well, really, lunged; towards the window, throwing it open as though it was standing inbetween him and eternal life. But he was presented with something much less pleasant.

"PyRIgHtIES BeWArE".

It was written...no, _**burnt**_ into the sides of about five conjoining village houses. Devastated families were running about, calling out for assistance in their panic, while crowds of strangers completely ignored them, pushed past them even, to behold the spectacle of the manic scrawlings scribbled across the wooden walls in what was surely burnmarks, not a single person knowing what to make out of it except for one thing and one thing alone: fear.

"P-Pyrighties?" The young Prince exclaimed, in a much more shocked tone than was probably necessary. "What's that supposed to mean?!" He scrunched his face up in an attempt at looking offended and irritated, but only ended up looking like a disrguntled dog trying to guilt trip its owner into giving it another treat.

"The Pirate's wrote that; that's how you know they're in town." the young blonde replied. "'Pyrighties' is their term for royals; Its supposed to be like 'Pyrite', the word for fool's gold. Because, well, they love gold, of course, but only real gold, so, and since we're rich, we're like gold, but only the bad gold that they don't like, like we're fake, not like the gold they look for."

Kowalski was the only person in all of the Tonant Colonial who was worse with words than him. The young Prince slowly massaged his slightly aching forehead with his right hand, giving himself permission to let out a small and pathetic moan.

"Whatever." He muttered. "Stuff like this happens all the time, but I never get to see any of it. Invaders from other lands, evil sorcerers, crazy monsters, heck, I heard a flipping DRAGON came one time, but I never get see any of it! Its all, 'High excitement isn't good for your blood pressure, Master Victor' this and 'You must focus on your studies, Prince Victor' that. I mean, its not like watching the knights fight off a giant army of demonic octopuses would kill me!" He grumpily stormed back to his bed and sulked back onto his pillow, accusingly glaring down at the pile of books on his night stand. "...But the boredom of this stupid work might."

The shuffling of cautious feet in the night. The thunk of leather on a heavily polished marble floor. The hushed, hissing breaths of a determined stealth. The clanking of fingernails on rusted metal. It was this musical chorus of unusual noises that awoke Victor near midnight that evening. It was this chorus that led him from his bed, striped nightcap and pajamas fluttering in a manmade breeze as he quietly whirled through the halls, slippers almost slipping on the overly cleaned, sleek ivory stairs. And it was this chorus that brought Victor to the entrance of the castle, this chorus that brought Victor to the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and this chorus that lead him to have his life changed forever.

His jaw was forced into dropping, hanging open and limb like a loose door as all breath swept out of lungs, daring to never return after the man's eyes were gifted with the image of the strange yet gorgeous figure who busied herself at the end of the hallway. She stuck out harshly from the stunningly glimmering golden walls,all of which were draped in pieces of history masked with jewelry and towering around her, causing her to serve as a differing center to a painting in which she had no place. But that made her all that more intriguing to him.

Hunched over the lock to the Grand Hall in a peculiarly animalistic yet almost graceful pose, the female was covered from head to toe in garments that the royal could only find familiar in pictures of ancient storybooks. From her heavily torn black pants, her white blouse stained harshly from sunbeams and saltwater, her dull and scuffed up leather boots, her small earrings of pure gold and the tiny, almost unnoticable beads of multiple hues that dotted her flowing jungle of hair, every little piece belonging to the girl's puzzle of an appearance was unlike anything Victor had ever seen before. Her skin was darkened with the flavor of many days kissed by a rich and powerful sunlight, the tanned tone resembling that of a tropical beach's shoreline, a perfectly clear and smooth terrain only being broken by the occasion scar and clouds of small, light-orange freckle's upon the gal's cheeks. The bow tying together her unusual yet glorious gift of an appearance was a slim bandanna that resembled the shade of purple found late within sunsets, tied around her tanned forehead and serving as a shore for her luxurious, unbroken ocean of golden locks.

And yet, with all the parts of this freakish circus act of unusual beauty that the male had to gaze upon, his eyes inevitably became particularly fixated on the damsel's face. Glaring down at the lock whilst her hands worked, almost as though her piercing gemstones of amethyst eyes could melt the hunk of metal to nothing, the dame's entire expression, scrunched around her almost comically pointed nose to her light brown lips screamed with extreme concentration and determination as she attempted to figure out the challenge in front of her. Somehow though, perhaps due to the slight smugness of the occasional smile that broke out on the gal's lip, or the shimmer of the light pools of purple watercolors that danced throughout her irises, or even the childishly plump, rosy and gingerly freckled cheeks that bounced with each breath, Victor found an elusive element of friendliness in this human-like alien's face. And, it was this potentially nonexistent piece of friendliness that the Prince dug up, or possibly even invented, that motivated him to do something he never believed possible: He decided to greet the pirate.

"Uh, hey, I-"

SCHINK!

In a lightning strike's flash, the situation was flipped over on its head faster than the unfortunate Prince could properly understand what was even going on. One second he was gently laying his hand on the mystical lass's shoulder, and the next he was backed up into the wall, the girl he so admired gritting her teeth and glowering towards him in fury as she pressed her sword less than inches from his throat; the blade was majestic yet bizarre, splotted and splattered with a rainbow of what Victor could only assume to be the most peculiarly colored blood stains he'd ever encountered; Green, blue, with dots of orange...what creature bled these colors?! Oh, well, probably not the best time to be examining the weapon's design and color scheme, considering it was about to be the object of the poor man's murder.

"W-WaIT!" Victor nervously spluttered, choking on his own painful panic as he avoided breathing, in hopes of not expanding his neck into the blade that seemed to be pressing closer and closer to his flesh. "C'mON, now! I-I won't hurtcha-ACK!-" The cutlass graced his skin, and whilst not quite deep enough yet to draw blood, the woman's expression, refusing to lose its carnivorous death stare, only added yet another wave of terror to the situation. "P-please-S-S-SERIOUSLY!-I'm j-just a PRINCE! I couldn't hurt-I W-W-OULDN'T HURT-a pretty pirate like you!"

Something struck the pirate woman. Neither was more sure than the other of what it could've been; Pity? Sympathy? A lose of hope or ambition? Well, whatever it was, it washed over the lady, it hit her hard, and it compelled her to action. With a slow, graceful, steady hand, the oversized saber was returned to the marauder girl's hip, but her gaze upon the fancily dressed regal never dwindled. For a literal several moments that felt like a figurative year, Victor was glued to the wall in his own confusion, like a startled animal of prey waiting in complete uncertainty as the beastly queen of the food chain tilted her head from side to side, assumably investigating each of his nooks and crannies with her eyes, before finally bursting out into an even more baffling giggle.

"You're hilarious."

"Uh..thanks. Little too boring around here for a comedian though."

After this exchange was met with more chuckles, both characters were forcibly sunken into an abyss of silence, though only one found it awkward at first; as Victor hesitantly allowed himself to relax, still slowly and awkwardly sliding off the wall in a state of beffudlement, the raider lassie merely kept her brilliantly smug smile. But then, something happened that neither could have guessed if they'd been given a million years: both parties lost their past feelings, and, in a state of an emotional blank canvas, began to automatically lean closer to each other, as if intrigued by what lay in the other's eyes. Finally, at each person's last breath, before either could notice that their faces were inches away from contact, the Prince was slammed with a procrastinated observation about the pirate maiden's voice:

"You...you're BRITISH."

"...Wait, what?"

Welp, he ruined it. The duo withdrew from one another, only spending several seconds of thought on the insane concept that they may have just shared an almost...romantic moment with one another. Finally, while the duet stewed in an inability to comprehend a way out of the social situation, Victor decided to do what he did best: open his big mouth and make things worse.

"But, I mean, aren't you supposed to be all like, 'AAARRGGHHHAARRR', and, 'Shiv-ere' meh timberes', and, 'Ahoyeh, meh fernd serm booteh-and, uh, stuff like that?"

"...No."

"...Oh."

If there was a ever a moment in which the duet perfectly understood just how different they were, it was right then and there. The two stood in dead silence, locked in each other's stares, wanting to look away but obligated to keep their gaze alive, perharps for different reasons. The royal's face began to flush whilst embarassment washed over him as the realization settled in that he had not only made a giant fool out of himself, but he had also potentially offended this woman he found so fascinating. Meanwhile, the long-locked blonde drowned in complete befuddlement over the regal man's pure stupidity; his voice during his poor attempts at mockery of stereotypical pirate slang sounded less like a typical deep-throated, gravelly-voiced pirate captain, and more like the high-pitched squawks of a seagull choking on its own spit. She never suspected that someone with so much could be so ignorant. Finally, almost in an attempt to make it possible for her to forgive him, the female pirate blurted out with:

"I blame your media. The parents around here don't want their kids running off with us 'dirty, rebellious hethen pirates', so they spread all these silly little rumors. Like that we can't speak proper English, or that we never bathe, or that we all have pet parakeets and peg legs and eyepatchs and hooks for hands...okay, maybe those are all sometimes true, but not nearly as often as you Pyrighties make them out to be."

An awkward silence followed as neither person knew how to follow up the lady's short rant. Finally, desperate to break the still tension, the gal abruptly moved back towards the large door, almost pushing aside the Prince as she chose to ignore him in returning to her original endeavor.

As the British pirate placed her strong hands around the lock once more, the royal American suddenly said, in an almost surprised fashion, "W-wait! Y-you never told me your name."

"Hm?" the golden-haired beauty swung her head back around at the gentleman. "Oh, i'm Anita." She felt a pang of guilt as she realised that she'd also forgotten to ask the young man for his name. What a fool; here she was, going on and on about how false Pirate stereotypes were, only to be followed with her rudely ignoring someone who'd been at least decent towards her. "...Uh, and you?"

"Oh! I'm Victor, Prince Victor Thomas Jefferson Volt, Third of the Fifty-Second Volt Generation." The lengthy-named Prince shot out his left paw towards the Pirate and shined an incredibly large grin, only to have his gaudy look of glee vanish when his introduction was met with a look of confusion on his new friend's end, much different from the humbled and honored praise he usually received after introducing himself to peasants and fellow royals.

Slowly, hesitant like a suspicious animal of prey approaching a potential trap, Anita eventually placed her hand into the Prince's, nearly shuddering at the shock of feeling his soft, fragile, creamy skin meet her own rough, strong, slightly filthy palm. She could see the surprise well up in his own eyes as well, but he didn't feel an urge to retreat as she did. He merely wrapped his own thin, pink fingers around her tough tanned ones, incasing her palm safely as she finally allowed herself to relax, an action she rarely took around anyone. They sank into silence for more than several seconds, ignorant of the connection beginning to grow between the two souls that met with the bridge of those hands. Finally, like a sensitive baby bubble exploding upon an exceedingly sharp old stone, both people came to their senses and swiftly broke apart, hands returning to their original locations and eyes darting in any old direction, almost trying to shake off the seeds of an unlikely possible bond that the two had just planted.

Whilst the slightly embarassed Prince inspected the gold-plated walls he had gazed upon seemingly millions of times throughout his lifetime, the inevitable yet sudden realization came crashing in on him like a gigantic crystal chandelier. What was a pirate doing in his house?!

"HEY!" the male squawked abruptly, "What're you even trying to do with that lock?!"

"Hm?" the pirate princess innocently lifted her head like a student being caught doodling, as though she didn't understand the meaning behind her new acquaintance's words. And finally, yet all at once, the fellow daydreamer was forced into returning to her reality as well; despite whatever unplanned happenstances occurred between the two, she was still an attemptive thief, invading his home against all moral conduct. Could she possibly just...tell him the truth? He said it himself earlier, there was no way on Earth that a little pipsqueak like him could ever harm her. Even if he were to call upon the guard's attention, it would be dull child's play compared to what she'd faced in the past; nothing her quick wits couldn't allow her to handle. She also knew quite well that her body, well muscled from years of hard labor at sea, could not only outrun his pale, skinny and scrawny structure, but even destroy it if necessary. So, any consequences that could come up from her honestly would easily be prepared from her well-trained combination of mind and body, it was a game she had every chance of winning...oh, what the heck?

"I'm here for the Sphalerite Tiara."

"You're WHAT?! B-But-That's supposed to be a secret!"

"Ha!" the mischevious mistress stiffled her own chuckling. "Some secret; we sent other pirates to your last party WEEKS ago. You know, keeping your most valuable treasure of all time in the gigantic, gaping Grand Hall in the center of the castle isn't exactly the best idea. "

He knew he shouldn't have allowed that shifty-looking man with the eyepatch and the gaping tear in his jacket to tour the Grand Hall during the Spring-Tacular Gala Festival.

"Well, YOU should know that-"

As if to cut off all possibilities of continuing the conversation, one final, frustrated blow from the blonde's fist caused the hunk of rock seen by the royals as a lock to explode into beyond dozens of small fragments. Without any answer to the Prince's former exclamation, the devlish marauder excitedly pushed through the monstrous wooden doors like a child on Christmas morning, rushing in towards her spoils with a sheepish regal hurridly following on her tail, yet doing little to stop her.

Neither of them even noticed the perfectly synced timing of their matched inhales, skidding to halts as they reached the plinth at the end of the room, on which sat the rarity of the angelic crown.

A mere word such as "gorgeous" simply wasn't enough to describe its majesty. The framework was expertly crafted beyond anything anyone could imagine possible for human hands, almost as though it were ripped directly from a dream. Curving upwards like waves from a gently overflowing brook, light-orange bronze curls perfectly carressed an elegant, glimmering, glistening sphalerite gemstone, that shimmered and shone with its varying dark orange hues, whispering promises of beauty to whoever dared to gaze upon it. It was really no wonder that the Royal Volt family decided to keep it such a secret.

Despite the fact that he had oggled upon it hundreds of times since he was a young child, Victor still couldn't help but be completely stolen by a tornado of bewilderment and childlike wonder as he looked down onto the bejweled ornament, viewing it lovingly as though it was his own child...until a reckless, mood-breaking swipe caused the tiara to instantly vanish, once upon the cushioned pedastal and now in the female pirate's small burlap sack.

Anita slowly and leisurely began to stroll back out of the Grand Hall, leather-strapped feet calmly pattering against the polished marble floors without a care in the world, as if she hadn't just committed a horrendous robbery of a highly precious item right in front of one of the most important people in all of Tonant Colonial. Because, well, what was that very important person to do? They both knew full well he was no match for her...but, wait a minute.

Anita's feet stopped moving as her brain began to.

Would this be the last time she'd ever see the Prince?

Somehow, for some inexplicable reason, Anita's usually stable heart of stone seemed to crackle and fall at the idea of leaving this new..."friend" of hers, if you could call him that, behind. That's why she reached a daring conclusion to a decision she'd not only never imagined facing, but never imagined resolving in quite this manner, spinning around and suggesting:

"Why don't you come back with me?"

He'd been lingering by the entrance to the Grand Hall, stupidly drowning in a haze as he was lost over what to do...but when she gave him her invitation, he raced over to her so fast it was a miracle he didn't topple over onto her and create yet another embarassing scenario. Barely skidding to a halt at her feet, his hands were in a whirl around his head, as though he was trying to literally "grasp" what she had just said.

"Y-Y-You, you, YOOUU, You-Y-W-W-WHAT?"

"Oh, c'mon." Anita cheekily chirped in reply, almost seductively reaching out for and holding the royal's scraggly arm. "You said it yourself, you're bored here! We could always use another hand." She thought to herself of how she was shifting her tone, trying to make it sound like he was actually necessary to the crew, and not just a treat she struggled with the idea of living without...but that wasn't important. "Wouldn't you just have so much more fun on a pirate ship, going on adventures, taking risks, experiencing daring thrills, than being cooped up in this stuffy ol' place your entire life?"

Gulping down his apprehension, the Prince looked away, back towards the Grand Hall, as though looking away from her could save him from the decision. He knew very well that what she was saying wasn't wrong. Really, he hated it here. But, everything that he'd be leaving behind, everything he dreaded so much, was still a responsibility of his. His work. His job as the Prince of Tonant Colional. His future...

As the King.

But what would being King earn him? Nothing he didn't have already. If anything, aside from a higher title, everything in his life would deterioate from there. He'd have more responsibilities. More work. More stuffy people he'd have to pretend to like. More pressure to keep up a good appearance. More time spent inside panicing over more heavy situations with the weight of more peoples lives on his shoulders.

Less time with the people he actually enjoyed.

That was something he never even considered; his family. Well, what was left of his family. What would his mother think of this? She was the only thing that truly made palace life worth living. She wasn't like the other uptight inhabitants of the castle, always judging him, always critising his every move. She always accepted him for who he was. But that's just why she'd approve of this. She always felt bad for him, so miserable with the life destiny chose for him. Though she may not show it outwardly, he knew she'd want him to be happy more than anything.

He knew it was selfish. Extremely selfish. Childish, even. But if he didn't take the oppurtunity while it was open, he knew he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

"Yeah. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: **K+** (Mild alcohol/intoxication references)

Racing through the alleys. Bounding across the streets. Sprinting past the houses. Leaping over obstacles (well, one leapt, the other fell.). The moonlight was their only guide, gliding over the duo in a sea of mystic mystery, illuminating the entire kingdom, bathing the shadows and enchanting every little detail with an elegant fairytale of blue, lighting up the path to the couple's future.

His new existence had barely started, and Victor was already having the time of his life. While it was embarassing to think over the enormous amount of times he'd slipped on the curbstones, tumbled over barrels and tripped over even his own clumsy feet, all of which caused his snow white face to burn a fiery red as he'd fallen right on it in front his mischevious crush, this escape was still the best thing Victor had experienced in years. No, in _**forever.**_

 __The rush of the joy ride could only last so long though, slamming to an unexpected break as the Prince skidded to a halt. At first Anita kept running ahead, only to stop, spin around expecting danger, and then harshly criticise herself for forgetting to explain this earlier.

'PyRIgHtIES BeWArE'.

"Oh, uh, don't worry about that." Anita chirped, her tone quickly shifting between nervous and playfully calm as she once again gripped the Prince's arm. She began to tug him back through the path they'd been following, but the royal refused to budge; his peepers were just too heavily fixated on the lunatic's calligraphy scorched upon the walls of the houses villager's once called homes, feeling weighed down by the pressure of monstrous guilt after witnessing the word art from the much more instense point of view of a villager on the grounds, facing the reality head-on, rather than as a royal, safe and secure in a golden tower miles above the Earth.

"Victor, please..." It was Anita's turn to feel guilty, and for a crime she didn't even commit! "Look, Professor Professor wrote that, okay? It doesn't mean anything; he just gets a liitttlee bit outta hand when we first enter these kingdoms, ESPECIALLY when someone makes the mistake of giving him a torch."

"Wait...Professor WHO?"

Anita was beyond relieved to hear him finally snap out of his trance, as though she was afraid he'd never come back; she snickered her signature snicker at her new friend's hilarious response to the confusing statement.

"Look, you'll meet him later, alright? Just-come on!"

This time it worked; one last yank on the man's arm finally got him to follow, at first losing his balance with overly dramatic "AAaHH!", before he finally caught himself, attemped to shield what was left of his dignity by claiming that he actually meant a much more manly"Ah!~", and the two unlikely buddies returned to tearing through the avenues, ducking and diving through the shade cast by building after building, each one increasingly dull and easy for Victor to never see again, hearts racing and adrenaline rushing as the full moon continued to hang over them both like a clock, a gemstone reminding of the hours, yet still further calling them towards their destination.

It was marvelous, easily the most majestic creature of wood Victor had ever laid eyes upon. Towering three fourths of the height of the castle he'd spent his childhood and adolescence, the pirate ship was decorated in fine authentic detail, masterfully crafted from the silky white sails to the peacefully alluring mermaid carving that lie gracefully upon the bow of the ship, free of gravity, the loudest and possibly even most respectable part of the watercraft masterpiece being the masts, which longily reached up into the sky so they may gently kiss the rainbow of the morning; purples, pinks and oranges that began charging over the horizon, expelling the mysterious blues and blacks as they began to retreat with the diminishing nighttime hours, the incoming light better showcasing the devine hues of blue and yellow that helped the voyager truly pop among the murky greens of the ocean below.

Like most things in his prior lifetime, Victor couldn't help but expect that the entrance onto his new home would be served to him; after all, he'd spent years watching out the window as visitors from other lands descended their ships from stairways and ramps, so why would this be any different? Unfortunately, like many other times in his life, he was wrong.

Without warning, without noise, without flaw, almost too fast to be properly spotted by the naked eye, Anita had successfully pounced onto the anchor's rope like a tiger on the prowl, and she was halfway up to the deck before Victor had even fully processed what she was asking of him.

"Wait, you want me to climb THAT?"

The blonde maiden looked down at the princely escapee as though he'd just asked her if the ocean floor was actually a gigantic cat tongue.

"Well, yes-How else were you planning on getting up here?!"

"Oh, y'know, UP A RAMP, LIKE EVERY OTHER SHIP EVER?!"

An irritated eyeroll paired with an exasperated sigh proved Anita was not in the mood for this discussion right now. "Look, its not that hard, just- put one hand in front of the other, and, well, pull yourself up. Come on, you can do it; unless you're just a sissy."

She knew it; all it took was a playful taunt to get the Prince moving. When the words first let her mouth, he goggled at her as though she'd just offended his great ancestors, before narrowing his eyes like a child in the middle of a martial arts lesson trying WAY too hard to be taken seriously.

"Wh-...What did you call me?" He said, in a tone that was at least something like a disgruntled mutter that was still loud enough to be heard.

Okay. Now Anita was having fun. "Its only a little rope. Only a _sissy_ couldn't climb it."

Now she'd done it. The bull had spotted the red cape, and it was rearing up to go.

"OH, YEAH? WELL I'LL SHOW YOU!"

2 seconds. He lasted _2 seconds._ Cause, frankly, how much more time do you really need to jump off the dock, completely and totally miss the rope, smack face-first into the side of the boat, and fall backwards into the water?

"VICTOR!" Anita cried as she scrambled her back down the boat, forcing herself to scream as loud as possible to avoid laughing 'til her stomach hurt over her new buddy's misfortune.

The water was shattered as Victor burst through the frothing waves, panting and gasping like a dog as he leapt from the brine and clung to the rope like a cat, soaked hair and clothes drooping as he was shaking, eyes the size of needle's points, as though he'd just escaped from the jaws of a kraken with seconds to spare. He was brought out of his traumatic state, however, when a strong yet caring hand grabbed hold of his left.

As unbearable as it seemed, Victor forced himself to raise his head up to the sky, shame setting his cheeks aflame as he did so. But, the girl above him looked nothing like the one he expected. He didn't see the expected angry marauder screaming at him for his failure, nor the embarassed lady who was beginning to feel great regret over her decision of bringing him along, and not even cackling hyena that couldn't enjoy his misery more. Okay, she was CLEARLY supressing a chuckle or two, but still...the woman he saw was kind, sympathetic even, and almost...encouraging. As though even after he failed in the absolute most humiliating way possible, something in her eyes said he still had a chance to do it right.

"Come on now, you're almost there."

She let his hand go and began climbing once more, this time it being painfully obvious that she was slowing herself down to make him feel better; but he appreciated that. This time, carefully, as though the rope were made of glass, he gently grabbed hold of it, then tightened his grip, allowing perhaps a little too much satisfaction and adrenaline course through him as he did so, but, hey, so far it had been one of the biggest accomplishments of his life...sadly, literally. And he kept climbing, grinning like a child with a new toy after every inch he climbed, not knowing that his partner was watching while wearing a similarly foolish grin at the delight of watching both her new partner's first real sucess, and his undeniably adorable reaction to it.

At long last, they made it, the platform of Victor's new life; the ship's deck. To Anita, it was nothing new; she merely gazed over the dozens of men at work, performing their various duties with little notice or concern as to what was going on around them, occasionally yawning to themselves as evidence that they had only awoken recently. But to Victor, this place was an enchanted forest of new oppurtunity; these well-muscled men that hustled and bustled around him, while they may not have even realised he was here yet, would soon be his new brethren. It wouldn't be long until he was one of them, a thought that seemed beyond impossible less than a day ago.

"Hey guys, I got the tiara!" Anita proudly declared, striding to the center of the main deck while holding the leather satchel high in the air for all to see.

The men arrived in herds, galloping over before swarming around the young lady in a near perfect circle. For pirates, Victor certainly expected them to be a more, well, y'know, handsy, but they seemed to be waiting patiently as they gawked and squawked over the item, before it was even freed from the bag. Perhaps nobody was attempting to take it cause they respected the blonde thief; or cause they knew she'd kick them down to Davey Jone's locker faster than you could say, "oh deAR GOODNESS GRACIOUS PLEASE I'M SORRY TAKE THE TIARA BACK I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HURT ME."

With a smugly playful smirk, Anita began to pull the tiara from the pouch, clearly intentionally removing it as slowly as possible to provoke more agony in the crew around her; but, honestly, when you got to listen to their hilarious "oooo OOOO C'MON CMON cmmooonnnnn"'s, you couldn't blame her.

At last, with a dramatic swipe, Anita quickly raised the tiara high into the air for all to see, smile brimming with pride as the jewelry glistened like a firey star against the burning morning sun, the fellow pirates around her cheering and spewing compliments to the lady for her exceptional work. The celebration only lived for several seconds however, dieing tragically as soon as the crew's eyes traveled from the crown to the suspicious character that stood apprehensively at Anita's side.

For several seconds, everyone stood in silence. Victor's goofy grin of excitement fading quickly as the pirates glared back, each beginning to pull out their personal sword. Anita's view spent several seconds darting between her familiar crew and her new friend before she dediced to take action; However, for once in her life, she was beat, as mere seconds before she could protectively block the Prince, another pirate raced out from the group and backed the royal into one of the cabin's walls, giving Victor a sense of deja vu as yet another colorful cutlass was held up against his throat.

"AY, STATE YOUR NAME AND BUSINESS HERE!"

Victor gasped and choked on the edge of the cutlass as memories began to flash across his vision; the pirate that was about to brutally murder him was the same one from the party! An eyepatch dark as a sinful soul obscured his left eye, whilst his other was so sunken and cast in such harsh shadow that it was almost completely unnoticable; as though both his peepers were nothing more than shards of nightfall itself, contrasted strongly by chunks of hair stained heavily by sapphire dyes.

"RAY, GET OFF OF HIM!"

All it took was one fierce upward strike for Anita's blade to knock Ray's cutlass across the ship, allowing her to jump in front of the Prince.

"He's with me, alright?!"

The army of freebooters relaxed their weapons as they stared dumbfounded at the blonde, each one never having been more confused in their life until she had claimed to have brought a Prince, a PRINCE of all people, onto their ship. Even the murderous raider Victor assumed to be "Ray" hesitantly stepped back, ogling at Anita as she cautiously covered her new friend.

Then the silence was destroyed by a small yet manic cackle, as a previously hidden figure began hobbling out of the batch of animalistic men.

Apparently this character was more trustworthy, as Anita began to step to the royal's side, turning and whispering to him as she did so: "Meet Professor Professor."

If Victor had thought that Anita was the strangest person he'd ever see for the rest of his life, he was badly mistaken. This little man used leather strips to strap to his head what appeared to be a pair of crudely painted red pieces from an ancient telescope, most likely serving as a makeshift duo of eyeglasses, covered in all kinds of little inexplainable bumps and scratches. The dwarf also wore a long, almost coat-like garment of light blue-ish white, which had its own personal collection of tiny tears, burnmarks and stains. His cranium was a shiny, glistening bald mountain that descended into a small patch of untamed hair, green as grass and wild as wind, that popped out from beneath his ears. Despite his head being abnormally gargantuant in height, he was still only about a few inches taller than the average dining room table, even whilst he was wibbling and wobbling on the world's most wonky peg leg. This didn't stop him from getting a good view of the lad, however, as it only took a spin of the crank that jutted out from his glass-scopes to make them pop out in height, until they were nearly touching the Prince's face; and if that wasn't irritating enough, the Professor also felt the need to prod the side of Victor's head with the pointy end of a long branch he'd been using as a makeshift cane.

"OooOOOooOO, Anita, I never imagined you'd like a Pyrightie!"

Both partners erupted in a chorus of yelling: "I AM **NOT** A PYRIGHTIE-" " **I DO NOT 'LIKE' HIM!** " before Victor finally swatted away the extended binoculars and stick. "LOOK" he started, "I'm not a Prince anymore; I wanna be one of you-" "Yeah, and I brought him here-" Anita began to interrupt before the entire conversation was cut off.

"WHAT IS ALL THE COMMOTION ABOUT?"

The racket was shattered with a forceful bang, everyone on the ship being forced into silence as they saw who had burst through one of the cabin's doors; even Victor, as he lay eyes on him for the first time, knew that it couldn't be anyone other than the captain of the ship.

He was a grand man, peculiarly regal in design; a large gray jacket majestically flowed from his shoulders like waves of dusk that poured over a beast-blood's red shirt with a white, whimsically fluffed collar, all tied together with high, black-dyed leather boots over matching pants and a dangling golden medallion upon the leader's abdomen. For a king among marauders, he was unexpectedly pristine; from an overy-fluffed moustache that appeared to be maintained perhaps a little too often, straw-thin hair of silver that rushed forward in a tight swoop, topped with a red captain's hat adorned with peacock feathers, and a deeply chiseled face of fair skin, with sharp black eyes and evened wrinkles suggesting wisdom gained with age. However, for whatever reason, the commander seemed to hold no sword; guess there's really no need for personal protection when you're constantly surrounded by a crew of brutal and fearless men...and, uh, one woman, who would die for you.

"Who is this 'Pyrightie' that I keep hearing about?!"

Every hand, even Anita's, pointed towards Victor, who began nervously sinking back into his shoulders as though he could hide in his shell like a turtle.

As the Captain strode forward, every step seemed to shatter the air around it. Victor began frantically looking around for some help, but it seemed each crew member was just as petrified as he was; even the daring and fearless Anita could only turn to him and say nothing, though her expression screamed, "Welp, it was nice knowin' ya.".

Then he finally halted, allowing himself to overshadow the feeble regal as he loomed over with a look Victor could only assume to be disgust brewed with blood-boiling hatred.

Then he smiled weakly.

"Pleasure to have you aboard, sonnie."

"...Huh?"

"Well i'm far from deaf boy, I heard the fuss; and we could always use an extra hand aboard." The boss extended his arm towards the young man, Victor grabbing on and shaking without losing eye contact.

"Oh, well, thanks, I guess, s-"

All the Prince's hairs sprung up on end as chills began to soar and creep through his body like ghouls, causing eyes to shrink and teeth to clench as his ability to speak or move seemed to be lost for good.

Now Victor realised why the master of the ship had held no weapon. He didn't need one.

In Victor's hand, wrapped around his palm in what would normally be a friendly gesture, was a shiny, silvery, and extremely pointy hook.

The Captain, apparently blissfully unaware of the fact that shaking hands with a hook was both unusual and terrifying for someone outside the pirate lifestyle, could only cock his head before lightly chuckling to himself with delight. "Hm-mhm-hm, I can see you're already raring to get started, hm-mhm-hm-ho."

To Victor's great relief, the hooked man pulled away from the embrace and began to tidily brush at jacket, somehow managing to do so with both hand and hook, before clearing his throat and returning to a perfected posture as he prepared his next announcement.

"Now, if you're to be working here from this day forth, there's something you should come to know; See, being as I am one of the most highly prestigious pirate captains in all the world's seven seas, it is important that I take security very seriously indeed, and it is for that reason that my name is changed daily. Today, you may call me-"

The Captain let out a shocked "HYEH!" as a sword shot from who knows where, sticking into the cabin walls among hundreds of other markings that would suggest this happening every single morning. After reccovering from the startle with several small coughs and a slight shake of the head, the leader grabbed the handle of the deadly weaponry and, while it took a few tough pulls, eventually it was freed.

"Today, you may call me..."

The older gentleman lifted the metal instrument of death to his eyes as, to Victor's confusion, the other crew members began snickering to themselves with childish excitement.

The Captain groaned loudly, rolling his eyes with extreme exasperation.

"...Goober Livershorts."

The boat immediately erupted in a bustling chorus with laughter spreading like wildfire as nobody, aside of course from the annoyed , wasn't chortling, tittering, or guffawing in some shape or form.

"Order, order, ORDER!" Goober Livershorts finally called out, pounding his fist against the walls of the cabin as the seafaring crew quickly forced themselves to swallow their sniggering.

"Hmph...that's more like it." Goober Livershorts grumbled as his surrounding audience finally slipped under a blanket of complete silence. "NOW, hoist the sails, lift the anchor, we have to get moving to the next village PRONTO!"

Pirates immediately began scrambling about in all directions like bees in a hive, swarming towards their desognated stations, lifting things and climbing things and pulling things all in a collaboration effort to get the boat moving.

At last, with a mountainous and beastly moan followed with a song of creaks and rasps, the vessel began to bob and rock heavily and violently as it crashed against the tantrums of the unsettled morning waves. As the craft scaled a particularly unnerved wave, Victor found himself on autopilot, swiftly wrapping his arms around Anita's stomach and helplessly clinging to her as the boat swerved and weaved, before snapping back into his senses and practically flinging himself on the voyager's railings, as if doing a terrible job to imply that it was the boat that had thrown him into her arms like a kitten fleeing from a vaccuum cleaner. And, while his hasty coverup failed to convince Anita, it at least made her more humoured than mad, giggling to herself as a means of shaking off the light blush that resulted from the accidental embrace.

Whilst the majority of the colony busied themselves at work among the floating wooden anthill, one eyepatch-donning loner of fluffy yet choppy corn-yellow locks crept over to the captain who watched over activities in the center of the ship, the blonde's free eye wandering towards the awkward couple that conversed near the cabin's walls.

"So...what exactly are you planning to do with him?" the crewmember asked.

"Hm..." Goober Livershorts looked over the Prince as he was chit-chating with the female pirate, noticing for the first time his ridiculous ensemble; damp, robe-like pajamas clung to his skin as a similarly soaked nightcap dripped down onto the wooden floors, where gunky slippers seemed to be weighed down by a mixture of ocean water and the muddy gravel of the town's roads he'd previously been running.

"Get that boy some dry clothes and a job. Just because he joined today doesn't mean he can just lay around, y'know."

"On it, sir."

"And I said, 'But YOU'RE the one who said it was still frozen; it's completely insane, what can we do?!', and then he said-"

One of Victor's few actually entertaining stories was cut short by a pile of clothes being thrown directly into his face.

"Ay, Goober Livershorts says that you gotta put those on. Then you can get to work swabbing the deck."

As a bucket full of soapy water was thrust into one hand and a mop shoved in the other, Victor was forced to hold his new shirt and pants combo with his teeth while the freebooter jogged off to help another array of random, almost identical looking pirates with steering the aft of the boat.

Victor looked to his blonde friend in bewilderment, only for her to reply with a cheeky smirk and a hand grasping his shoulder.

"Come on; i'll show you where you can get changed."

After at least forty minutes or so, a fed up Anita was preparing to barge into the spare cabin room to make sure her friend was still alive, before he finally burst out of the temporary changing room.

It wasn't much, really; just a white shirt striped with red and thick, brown leather pants. But boy did they make a difference; okay, maybe not a GOOD difference, but a difference nonetheless.

"Wow..." Anita started, astonished as she drank in the new sight. "I must say, you're really starting to look like a pirate."

"Really? Cause i'm sure not feelin' like one." Victor whined, pulling the neck of his shirt with one hand and scratching at his pant leg with the other. "These clothes are nipping me, and they really itch!" He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the dishelved clumps grace the edges of his fingertips; he didn't need a mirror to know that his current do looked extremely unlike the princely cut he was used to. "I mean...they didn't even give me shoes! Look!" The previous royal gestured towards his bare feet with both in arms in an almost comically over-the-top manner.

"You'll get some later, alright?" Anita responded, pushing herself up from some random cabin boy's hammock she'd been seated in. "For now, it's time for you to get to work!"

"Yeah...wait, work?"

"Victor, it's REALLY not that hard." Anita said in response to the nervous look Victor shot her as he grabbed the mop, clumsily grasping one end in each hand as though he had just learned how to hold things that morning. "It's already wet, so just...rub it along the floor. Back and forth, side to side, you get the idea."

For one brief moment, the former royal's anxiety seemed to vanish as he looked down at his new tool, his first one, in fact; never before had he wielded something with actual power, genuine responsibilty, aside from those boring books he had no actual interest in. It had finally come; his first chance to prove himself, to actually do something, and oh, how it excited him. And so, with his newfound honor in his first real duty, Victor raised that mop up high with pride and began scraping the wooden end against the floor.

"NO, NO, NO!" the British female cried out, grabbing the broom so as to force her idiot friend to quit humiliating himself. She couldn't even see his expression of bafflement and slight surprised agitation towards her, as she was too busy holding her palm over her forehead in hopes of stopping an oncoming headache and spending a split second wondering if she really thought this whole "kidnapping the Prince" thing through.

"Look." she began, turning back towards the newly appointed pirate. "You just...here." She ripped the mop from his hands, spun it upside down, and gently placed it back into his possesion. "Try it like that."

"Uh...ok."

She couldn't believe it; he STILL had no idea what he was doing. Although the right end was touching the floor this time, he just seemed to be...nudging it, with no actual movement or progress, like he was trying to push it straight through the floor and crash into the lower deck.

She sighed a weary sigh; if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. So, she wrapped her hands around the upper end of the mop, never forcing the previous Prince to let go of his deathgrip on the cleaning utensil, and began pushing it in rhythmatic circles. Though her orange-haired friend made no comments, she could see from his open-book expressions that he was quickly getting the hang of it, almost shocked when he realised the inconcievable process of something as foreign and exotic as a mop. Finally, she let go and stepped back, and was, admittedly, a little too proud for him when he continued the mopping all on his own.

"So, you've really never done anything like this before?" she asked, grinning to herself as she saw how proud he was of himself. It was almost sad, really, as it came with such bittersweet implications; she couldn't imagine how dull life must be if learning to mop the floors is the most thrilling experience ever.

"Well, no, I-I never really had to." Victor answered, studdering slightly with the mortifying realization, though his eyes never lifted from the wooden grounds. "There was always, y'know, servants and maids and people to do this stuff for me."

"Well, there's no servants or anything like that here, so you'd better get used to it." Anita jokingly replied, earning herself a happy glance and a throaty chuckle from her new friend.

She took a few seconds to get lost in the maze of her current fate; she'd been a pirate on this ship for as long as she could remember, and not once could she recall ever imagining the unimaginable thought of having a Pyrightie as a friend. Not just a friend, really; she knew deep down inside herself that this lovable goof was growing on her way too fast to just end up being nothing more than a friend. A best friend, maybe? To tell the truth, she had no clue how this duet act of theirs would really finish off, but she at the very least hoped that-

Wait a minute, what is he doing NOW?

The blonde raider's train of sentimental thought was derailed when she noticed her buddy, standing still and petrified like some sort of horrified statue of flesh, staring in terror at absolutely nothing whatsoever. But then he slowly raised a shaking hand and...started, petting his own forehead? What was he, sick or something? Just as Anita decided to bring the freakshow act to an end, she was cut off by Victor looking at his own hand and screaming at the top of his lungs like a little girl.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" he screeched, his face turning green. "Its all WET and...GROSS!"

This time, she simply couldn't be asked to hold it; after a quick burst of "PftHA,HEHAHAHA-", Anita had to bite her tongue before the newly hired deckswabber could squish his face any further in offense. She playfully patted him on the shoulder while sighing with humurous delight. "That's just sweat, Victor." she chirped with a lively grin. "Trust me, you'll get used to it."

"...Yo-You sure?"

"Positive."

With a final, sisterly ruffling of his hair, Anita finally began to walk away from Victor and towards her own responsiblities for the day, when suddenly the man's world decided to come crashing down yet again.

"OH SWEET HOLY GUACOLOME, WHAT ON EARTH IS **THAT?!**?"

She counted to ten, eyes and fist closed tightly. After recollecting her patience, Anita spun back around, only to begin to wonder if she was dreaming as Victor not only literally LEAPT into her arms like a damsel in distress, babbling and whining as he wrapped his arms around her neck and shoulders and ranted endlessly about the unholy monstrosity that had spooked him so badly, but as she spotted the actual demonic atrocitiy glaring from the ship's railings.

"KILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITANITAANITAANITAKILLIT!" the coward squawked, beginning to attract the attention of other pirates scattered around the ship as he nearly choked his female friend to death. "ITSGONNAEATMEANITAKILLITKILLITSQUASHITWITHYOURSWORDLOOKATITSTARINGATMEWITHTHOSEHIDEOUSEYESCMONPLEASEKILLITKILLIT **KILL IT!** "

Anita began hiding her face behind random long strands of her golden mane, skin turning red as lava as a result of an entire audience of pirate members laughing to themselves over the namby-pamby _she_ insisted on bringing with them.

As punishment for the scene he'd caused, the pirate of flaxen tresses gladly dropped her friend onto the ground before letting him on a little secret:

"That's a seagull."

"A _WHAT?!_ "

Drawing her blade and easily scaring the avian off with a slice of the air around it, Anita's boiling flush only seemed burn stronger as the small, innocent little creature of fluffy feathers and harmless, beady brown button eyes lightly and gracefully soared away.

"They're common around here." she muttered raspily, not turning to look at the fool as she did so. "They...they won't hurt you."

"...Oh."

Perhaps out of kindness to Victor, Anita forced herself to turn around; out of the corner of her eyes she saw more and more crewmembers gathering around their designated workspaces, watching the circus performance curiously as their mates whispered the ridiculous scenario into their eyes, as if Anita couldn't see any of them nor would she DEFINITELY be getting back at them for this later. But for now; she couldn't focus on that.

He was exactly in the position she'd left him; dropped onto his back, curled up like a pill bug, looking up to her with those glistening chocolate marbles like a terrified child, somehow trying to use his eyes to beg for forgiveness. He may not have been the brightest bulb in the bunch, but he still knew he messed up. Like, really, REALLY messed up. And, she may have only known the blockhead for less than a day, but if there was anything she was sure about, it was that she couldn't stay angry with him for too long.

"Oh, come on." the British lassie trilled, shooting down a hand to the former Prince, invoking yet another feeling of deja vu with it, this time for both sides. And, just like the last time, Anita's kindness was met with a familiar look of confusion, then gratitude as the brand new pirate accepted her embrace and allowed himself to be pulled back up onto his feet, followed by the miracle of him actually managing to catch the mop that was tossed in his direction.

"Alright, deckswabber, I really need to be getting to MY job now; but if another disaster happens, you know who to call."

Victor could only smugly snort to himself as his sassy companion began scrambling up the mast of the ship up towards the crow's nest, shock of locks the color of sunshine allowed to soar as they were caressed by the rising chilled breeze of the morning. Eventually though, Victor's view and hands were forced to return to his artistic trinity; the mop was his brush, the bucket was his medium, and an entire deck served as his canvas.

 _Time to get down to business._

"Anita, ANITA, A-NI-TA, LOOK!"

The purple-eyed maiden ripped her sight from the blotched and splintering mast she was descending to take in the sight that unfolded about twenty feet below her; while many spots were left bone dry, the majority of the deck had been sploppily splashed with soapy water in patterns so erratic you'd think a drunk man had _literally_ kicked the bucket all over the place. But that didn't stop her from being proud of him.

"Good job, Victor!" Anita exclaimed as she dismounted from the spar. "You've really learned fast; how's the rest of the ship look?"

"The rest?"

As the young man lifted himself from the one corner of the floor he'd been incessantly scrubbing, not taking the time to remove the pail that'd somehow managed to wind up on his head like a hat, his experienced pirate companion began pieceing the puzzle together; not a single other part of the vessel had been washed, and the sun was begging to set beneath the ocean. He had the ENTIRE DAY, to clean the WHOLE SHIP, and he barely managed a quarter of it.

"You..only cleaned the main deck?"

"Yeah!"

Beggars really couldn't be choosers; or, at least, they sure couldn't be when faced with a complete clown of man wearing a bucket, soap in his hair and easily the world's absolute biggest and doofiest smile on the face of the Earth like they were pieces of a uniform. After all, for somebody who'd pretty much done nothing his entire life, this was probably a pretty big accomplishment.

"You know what?" Anita began, grabbing her dolt mate's shoulder and giving it a jolly lil' shake. "You did a _really_ good job." Hey, maybe it was just a _little_ bit of a fib, but such a teensy white lie was worth it to see the pride twinkling in his dark brown eyes like shooting stars, his smile growing to the point where nearly the rest of his face was obscured by it. But there was no time for Anita to bask in what was surely the most adorable thing she'd ever seen; they had to get going! She quickly snatched her partner's arm and began tugging him down one of the stiarways.

"W-WOAH, where are we going?!"

"C'mon, the party's gonna start soon?"

"P-PARTY? What are we celebrating?"

"The new recruit, of course!"

And oh, what a celebration it was! The mess hall had been brought to life enchantingly, for hours and hours on end not a single face was frowning as everyone dance, sang and rejoiced, all most likely the result of an overdose of the apricot custard flavored rum being served that night (Even Goober Livershorts, who seemed to have his right elbow glued to a mantlepiece near the front of the room the entire night, still found time to dive into the largest and grandest 24-karot mug of them all.). Even the pirates who had tried to viciously kill Victor before were getting along with him; heck, EVERYONE seemed to be getting along with him. And that was the best part of all; after year after year of being shoved into so-called "partys" that should've actually been called "get judged for an hour by tons of obnoxious aristocrats who don't actually care about you or your accomplishments but your money and title...-ys", it was so much more than just a nice change of pace to not only have people genuinely caring about you, but actually **celebrating** you for once.

Eventually, however, as the funtimes began to slow down, as jigs simmered, catterwalling died and people slowly began to sober up, an exhausted Victor found himself urging to exit from the festivity; he wasn't completely sure whether he was escaping the cheerful commotion or searching for something else entirely, but either way he eventually found himself escaping up the stair way, the majority of the crew thankfully too intoxicated to notice his departure, and sitting beside a small and battered crate at the bow of the ship, the enchantingly angelic gemstones of the night sky serving as his only company...that is, of course, until:

"Victor?"

All the air was sucked out of the new pirate man's lungs as he spun around, nearly hitting his head against the surrounding boxes as he sprung up in preparation for an attack, only to finally regain the ability to breathe and sink back down on the floor as he realised it was only the woman who brought him here.

"Hi Anita." he replied half-heartedly.

"What's wrong?" Anita replied with concern, plopping down next to her friend as she looked towards him with sympathy. She knew something was definitinely wrong; why else would someone who'd been guzzling ale and waltzing across the table tops mere hours ago suddenly be goggling up at the night sky as though it could offer him consolation?

"I...I don't really know." the once Prince muttered, oak orbs dropping from the air to his feet. "I mean, don't get me wrong, i'm happy to be here, I just..." He scanned the area for a few seconds, eyes darting this way and that as though the finishing statement he was looking for would come crawling out from behind one of the boxes or something, before ending with: "...I don't know."

Anita wasn't a fool; even in pitchblack of midnight she could make out his dilated peepers, the way he shivered besides the humidity of the night, the way his hands fiddled at high speeds with several locks of his hair. She suddenly reached and grabbed one, feeling it shake and jump in her grasp while he suddenly turned his head and returned her gaze, though never trying to pull out from the small embrace.

"...Are you nervous?" she asked him.

Finally, after sparing a few seconds to thought, he managed to murmur: "...Maybe...a little."

Before Anita could pick up the conversation again, Victor managed to rip the oppurtunity away from her with a quick rambling burst:

"I-I just...It-s just, well, I, its just...really scary, y'know? This is all just so...different. From everything i've ever known. I mean, there's NO WAY i'm gonna make out here, you know that! I'm...i'm just a Pyrightie, like you said." He caused his blonde buddy a severe pang of guilt; if she had known where this was going, she'd have chosen her words a little more carefully that night. "...This, just...isn't where I belong. This is all just so, so scary..."

"I know it is." the marauder dame responded, freeing Victor's hand and instead giving him a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. ""I know its really...weird, right now. Very different from being a Prince...But everything's going to be alright. Don't think i'm a fool, Victor, I saw how happy you were at the party just now, how proud of yourself you were when you finished swabbing the deck before; I bet one day you'll be able to actually clean the whole boat!"

"HA!" No matter what was going on, Victor couldn't resist a good joke. As thanks for her adding her light to the darkness, he dediced to respond with one of his own, grabbing his still bare, pink and squishy feet like a baby and saying: "You know, they still never gave me any shoes!"

Anita burst into a short-lived line or two of laughter, perhaps a bit exaggerated for the sake of the preserving the son of the monarch's feelings, but her heart genuinely couldn't have smiled harder at the fact that he was finally transforming back into his old self again.

From that moment on, by some gracious miracle, the mold of depression and doubt seemed to have been broken; now, it was just two friends-no, two BEST friends, enjoying a quiet moment under the stars together, smiling at each other, ready for an uncertain future, no matter how scary, cause they knew that they were in this thing together.

"Anita?"

"..Yeah?"

"I think i'm gonna like it here."

"Hehe-i'm so glad."

The two of them stood, locked hands, prepared to return to the shindig. And then, against everything that Victor could've ever expected, that night had been sealed by a kiss to his cheek; it was quick, but warm, sweet, soft and friendly, and Victor seemed to be skipping through cotton candy clouds and had lovehearts pouring out of his ears as his glee blinded him to the fact that he was actually about to topple down the stairs and cause his partner's lungs to nearly explode from roaring and bellowing with laughter.

Out of all the treasure's she'd brought back from all those kingdoms, he was definitely her favorite.


End file.
